Based on the 1934 film "Hat, Coat and Glove" (which is itself based on the stage play of the same name), this film stars Tom Conway -- George Sanders' younger brother. The film strives to be a George Sanders drama -- witty, fast-talking, full of subtle quips and cat-fighting women. But the acting and plot never really rise to the occasion.
Conway plays Mark Latham, a slick, prosperous attorney married to a long-suffering wife, Erica (played by the beautiful Audrey Long). Although it's been years since he's really paid any attention to her, he's now worried that things have gone too far, and he's driven her into the arms of another man. Sure enough, there is another man -- an up and coming artist, Tony Claire (Louis Borel). But Claire himself has another girl, weakly played by Jean Brooks.
When the girlfriend is seemingly murdered, Claire is the prime suspect and Erica asks her estranged husband to defend him -- despite not realizing that Latham himself was present at the scene of the crime.
Much of the emotional set-up and the crime occur in the first 35 minutes of the film. The picture then turns into a standard courtroom drama reminiscent more of "Perry Mason" than "Witness of the Prosecution."
The writing in the film is extremely poor. Striving for a film noir atmosphere at first, the film turns into a standard love triangle. There is precious little to draw the viewer in, make the viewer care about these people, or feel anything about the problems they face. Partly this is due to Conway's attempt to imitate his brother's acting style. Instead of making Mark Latham seem urbane and intelligent, Conway makes Latham come off as slick, oily, superficial and a caricature of a real human being.
Although Audrey Long turns in a passable performance, the film gives her precious little to work with once the trial portion of the movie begins. She comes across as too brittle, as too unrealistic and cardboard. Jean Brooks' performance is downright awful -- her attempt at portraying a drunken, betrayed lover is melodramatic, over-acted, and unrealistic.
One standout performance is Claire Carleton's burlesque queen, Ruby LaRue. She's part Mae West, part Gypsy Rose Lee, and part Judy Holliday. Not only does Carleton turn in a wonderfully funny performance, her depiction of the stripper avoids caricature (which is a particularly tempting sin for such a role).
The courtroom drama itself is confusing, poorly written, unrealistic and has so many plot twists that it will leave your head spinning. An almost non-existent plot line involving a corrupt local politician hoping to frame Latham for the murder (or was it?) of the girlfriend seems tacked on, and is part of the film's resolution -- which seems ludicrous, given what has gone on before. The witness-stand performance of Nancy Gates as high school girl and eye-witness Connie Matthews is particularly overwrought. The courtroom scenes finale is somewhat ingenious, but that is lost amid the rest of this disappointing film.
Director Gordon Douglas would go on to helm such classics as "Them!", "The Sins of Rachel Cade," "Robin and the 7 Hoods," "In Like Flint" and "They Call Me Mister Tibbs." But unfortunately, this film reflects none of the great, deft touches that these later films contain.
Conway plays Mark Latham, a slick, prosperous attorney married to a long-suffering wife, Erica (played by the beautiful Audrey Long). Although it's been years since he's really paid any attention to her, he's now worried that things have gone too far, and he's driven her into the arms of another man. Sure enough, there is another man -- an up and coming artist, Tony Claire (Louis Borel). But Claire himself has another girl, weakly played by Jean Brooks.
When the girlfriend is seemingly murdered, Claire is the prime suspect and Erica asks her estranged husband to defend him -- despite not realizing that Latham himself was present at the scene of the crime.
Much of the emotional set-up and the crime occur in the first 35 minutes of the film. The picture then turns into a standard courtroom drama reminiscent more of "Perry Mason" than "Witness of the Prosecution."
The writing in the film is extremely poor. Striving for a film noir atmosphere at first, the film turns into a standard love triangle. There is precious little to draw the viewer in, make the viewer care about these people, or feel anything about the problems they face. Partly this is due to Conway's attempt to imitate his brother's acting style. Instead of making Mark Latham seem urbane and intelligent, Conway makes Latham come off as slick, oily, superficial and a caricature of a real human being.
Although Audrey Long turns in a passable performance, the film gives her precious little to work with once the trial portion of the movie begins. She comes across as too brittle, as too unrealistic and cardboard. Jean Brooks' performance is downright awful -- her attempt at portraying a drunken, betrayed lover is melodramatic, over-acted, and unrealistic.
One standout performance is Claire Carleton's burlesque queen, Ruby LaRue. She's part Mae West, part Gypsy Rose Lee, and part Judy Holliday. Not only does Carleton turn in a wonderfully funny performance, her depiction of the stripper avoids caricature (which is a particularly tempting sin for such a role).
The courtroom drama itself is confusing, poorly written, unrealistic and has so many plot twists that it will leave your head spinning. An almost non-existent plot line involving a corrupt local politician hoping to frame Latham for the murder (or was it?) of the girlfriend seems tacked on, and is part of the film's resolution -- which seems ludicrous, given what has gone on before. The witness-stand performance of Nancy Gates as high school girl and eye-witness Connie Matthews is particularly overwrought. The courtroom scenes finale is somewhat ingenious, but that is lost amid the rest of this disappointing film.
Director Gordon Douglas would go on to helm such classics as "Them!", "The Sins of Rachel Cade," "Robin and the 7 Hoods," "In Like Flint" and "They Call Me Mister Tibbs." But unfortunately, this film reflects none of the great, deft touches that these later films contain.